


Never have I ever...

by Wandererzaehler



Category: Lost, Merlin (TV), Primeval, Psych
Genre: AU, Accident, Angst, Cretaceous, Drabble, F/M, Family, Happy Ending, Never Have I Ever, Oceanic Flight 815, challenge, happiness, just a minor change, prompt, random middle section survivor, revisiting my fav fanfiction!, testing my limits, why have i never done this before
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-22
Updated: 2018-01-25
Packaged: 2019-03-08 03:07:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13449228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wandererzaehler/pseuds/Wandererzaehler
Summary: Today I wasn't up to too many words - so have a drabble instead, written for Lost. God, that show was one immensely huge plot hole - but I've never cried so much during a final season than when I watched the last few episodes!.A one-week challenge with the theme of 'Never have I ever...' in mind. Various fandoms and ships, all of which I've never written anything for. Using my free time to challenge my capabilities and keep my fingers used to a keyboard. I'm really looking forward to this! Enjoy!





	1. Day 01: Psych

Juliet watched in disbelief as Lassiter's car drove into a tree.

One second it was speeding down the street, the next it swung off towards the trees and came to rest against one with a nerve-racking screech of protesting metal. Even from a distance, O'Hara saw that there was no way someone sitting in the front could be unhurt after this impact.

Lassiter, crouching next to her with a bloodied hoodie pressed to his bleeding temple, groaned; though O'Hara wasn't sure if it was out of pain or shock. He wasn't fully conscious and in a lot of pain.

Meanwhile Gus got up and began running down the street towards where the car stood demolished. He stumbled once and nearly fell, but that didn't stop him: “Shawn!”, he yelled at the top of his voice, “Shawn!”

There was no answer, though Juliet kept telling herself that maybe she just didn't hear it over the ringing in her ears. She started to shake uncontrollably all the same, unable to move.

* * *

 

Lassiter hadn't shown up for work. He usually was punctual to the minute, operating like clockwork, so she had a weird feeling in her guts that something was wrong. O'Hara knew he lived for his work since his separation, and she appreciated it (for the moment, at least). It helped her not to think too much about how fascinating she thought Shawn's messy way of proceeding – even if that mess yielded more results than Carlton's steady rhythm.

She started calling people, called Shawn and Gus, too, and soon they were on a hot trail.

A trail which had led them here.

How was it possible that a day that began with mundane, every-day tasks ended in disaster? Only a few hours ago, all had been well with the world.

* * *

 

“Where's Spencer?”, Lassiter asked, and Juliet realised that he hadn't seen the car's tail lights veering off the street. “And where is my goddamn car?”

A short way away she could still hear Gus yelling Shawn's name. Juliet swallowed, fighting a hiccoughing sob back, and pulled her jacket tighter around herself, fighting for an answer.

“I guess you'll need a new one, Lassie”, she heard someone say to her left, and O'Hara jerked, stifling a surprised yell, and turned around to see Shawn coming out of the wood phoenix-like.

Lassiter opened his mouth, probably to give Shawn a piece of his mind, but then he pressed the hoodie firmer against his head wound, grumbled something and thought better of it.  
He needed a doctor, soon.

“You know Lassie, I think that's just fair, considering that you ruined my new shirt! And by the way, Jules, there's a guy for you to book, just a little way down there.”

Shawn pointed vaguely down the street.

Juliet stared at him with mouth agape, barely believing her eyes. If she hadn't still heard Guster call for his friend, she'd have believed that she was seeing things. That maybe Lassiter's car didn't drive into a tree after all.

“... how?”, she asked.

Shawn shrugged and rolled his eyes: “I jumped off, Jules, what else? And he did, too; apparently he'd rather go to jail than forcefully hug a tree. The timing was important, though, I can tell you. Ha! I told my Dad that one day watching The Fast and the Furious would pay off!”  
He frowned, looked round and then realised where Guster had gone off to: “Yo! Gus! Over here!”

“Shawn? Shawn!” Gus turned and ran back, waving his arms.

Juliet got up to her feet, her shock turning into anger as she stared at Shawn who appeared quite unfazed by the whole situation.

“You okay, Jules? You look a bit pale.”

Shawn had known full well how wrong this could go – but he'd still been all too ready to exchange himself for a hurt Lassiter to keep her and Gus out of the fray, getting into the car with an out of control psychopath. Shawn would probably pretend he'd had a back-up plan if asked (or any plan whatsoever), but Juliet was sure this had been the work of a moment.

“The right timing? Action films? Are you serious, Shawn?! That was sheer, dumb luck! You could have died! You could have killed yourself!”

To her surprise, Shawn flinched, and for a moment she got a glimpse of what he hid behind the cheerful façade. Now she saw that his fingers were shaking, too, just as badly as hers, that he limped because of a deep, bloody scratch visible beneath his torn trouser leg and that the way in which he held his right arm sure didn't look healthy.

Shawn, too, was pale, and there was something in his eyes she hadn't seen before. Something that might very well be fear.

For a moment, the two of them looked at each other quietly, and Juliet was too stunned at this new realisation to say anything. She was no less afraid now than she had been moments before.

Her anger dwindled.

“Don't ever do that again, Shawn. Please.”

He gave her a shaky smile: “Cross my heart.”

And just like that, the moment was gone as Gus reached them and Juliet, heart still racing madly, searched for her handcuffs.

.

The End


	2. Day 02: Primeval - Happiness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor has been thinking about something important. Abby is happy to answer his question.

Connor had been tossing restlessly for a while. Now Abby heard him sigh and decided she'd had just enough of this: “What is it?”, she whispered.

Connor was facing away from her so his answer was barely audible: “I was just thinking...”

“Yeah?”

“Oh, nothing. Forget it. It was a stupid idea.”

Abby snorted and punched his back: “Come on, Connor – I know you better than that. Just tell me so we can go to sleep.”

Connor rolled over towards her. Abby could see him outlined against the window through which light filtered in, despite the early morning hour.

“You have to promise not to laugh at me.”

“Connor, you know I don't do that... often.” She added the last part in a mischievous voice and was rewarded with that low chuckle she loved so much.

When Connor spoke again, however, his voice was dead serious: “If we hadn't been stranded in the Cretaceous, would we... I mean, do you think we'd be together now?”

Abby frowned in surprise and hesitated to answer, instead asking: “Why'd you think about that?”

She felt his shrug more than she saw it: “Jenny and Michael split up.”

“I hadn't heard”, Abby whispered.

“I don't think she told anyone else at the ARC. It's not like she's coming around much.”

“No. But still, they were so happy last time I saw them... He did her good. I was so hoping this would work out.”

“So did I. After everything...” Connor trailed off, and Abby decided that they didn't need to talk about this again, so instead she asked: “Did she tell you why they split up?”

“Not really. But I think... Well, she didn't tell him the whole truth. She held back from him.”

“You mean because of that they were bound to break?”

“I don't know. But it can't really be good, now, can it?”

Neither one of them said anything for a while. Lying as close together as they did, Abby could feel the gentle rise and fall of Connor's chest. One of his arms was draped loosely around her middle, and after a few minutes, he absent-mindedly began running his hand up and down her back. Abby moved closer toward him.

“Abby...”, Connor whispered, and she knew he was going to try and take back his question. Probably call it silly or something and ask her to forget all about it, like he usually did when he was afraid they might end up arguing. But there was no way she'd let this go.

“Listen, Connor”, she said, “I'm sure we would've ended up together one way or another. It's not like I fell in love with you because you were the only man available on the planet – I was already in love with you before we were trapped in the past. If anything, that year made my feelings grow stronger. Connor, you didn't only protect me, you gave me hope. I think... I know that I'd have died if it hadn't been for you. You changed in that year, but you also... you kept being yourself, your amazing, idiotic self...”

Abby stopped, feeling a lump in her throat. Connor's grip around her tightened for a moment, but all he said was: “Now you sound just like me when you ramble.”

“I'm serious, Connor.”

“I know.”

“Then shut up and go to sleep.”

Connor pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead: “I'm still wondering why you fell in love with me in the first place.”

She punched his arm with some vigour: “I think I've told you enough about my feelings for tonight, don't you think? Don't push your luck.”

The Baby Monitor on the bedside table next to Connor came to life, the lights lit up, and they heard their daughter's crying.

Abby was halfway out of bed when Connor grabbed her arm and grinned before sneaking in another kiss, to her lips this time: “My turn, Abby.”

“I love you so much, you know?”, he said as he pulled back.

“I love you too, you moron.”

Crawling out of bed, he grinned: “You're only saying that now 'cause that'll heighten your chances for a wink of sleep.”

“You're absolutely right”, she murmured into her pillow, smiling happily.

* * *

 

The year in the Cretaceous had been a nightmare she wouldn't have survived without Connor's support. Now however, in the safety of their home, with Connor and their baby daughter close by, she couldn't help but feel that this terrible year had brought her more happiness than she ever imagined possible...

.

The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't really say why I've never written anything for Primeval before - but let's just say, this series has been a part of my life (on and off, I should say!) for more than a decade. First saw it when I was eleven years old. It's special to me - maybe that's why I didn't have the guts to write any fics before. Hope you liked it anyway!


	3. Day 03: Merlin - All that matters

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: You don't have to read 'Just a minor change' to understand this story (though of course you're very welcome to have a look at it!). If you just want to read this story, accept that there's a new knight who's close to Gwaine. He's called Sir William, and he knows just a bit too much about things...

Gwaine ran his hand down Celtus's coat and decided that, even if he'd wanted to, there would be no way to get the coat any shinier. Celtus snorted and shook his mane before making a step forward to reach the trough, nearly stepping on the knight's foot.

Sighing deeply, Gwaine stepped to the side.

“That horse really does not like you.”

Gwaine turned around to see William sitting on a hay bale close to Celtus's horse stall. The young knight grinned teasingly.

“He'll get to know me soon enough, and then this horse is going to realise how...”

“... how you're the worst rider in the history of Camelot?”

Gwaine stepped out of the box and shrugged at Will's comment, grimacing.

“Oh no”, Will said, “not you, too. I was hoping to have a normal conversation with you!”

“What do you mean?”

Will ran his hand through his hair in an exasperated gesture: “For the past few days, you have all been so...” He trailed off for a moment and frowned before continuing: “Leon is even more formal than usual. Percival keeps a straight face even when he's around children, and you know how he usually is around them. I haven't seen Merlin for a while and all Gaius wants to tell me is that he's out of town, gathering special herbs for him. Arthur trains us even harder than he usually does, and he's in a bad mood all the time, while the Queen won't let him out of her sight for more than a few minutes – and now you, too, behave strangely.”

Gwaine opened his mouth to protest, but Will raised his hands to stop him: “Don't pretend you come here often to give special care to a horse that keeps stepping onto your feet on purpose! I know you better than that. Tell me what it is you have on your mind. Maybe I can help.”

“You wouldn't understand, Will. You weren't here when it happened.”

Will stopped frowning and looked down on his hands, but Gwaine was sure that for a second he saw sadness in the other man's face.

“I want to understand, Gwaine. Please tell me.”

Gwaine hesitated, then shook his head decidedly: “I can't. It's too painful.”

“How about something to dull the pain first?”, Will asked and vaguely pointed in the direction of the town.

Gwaine's face relaxed a bit as he nodded: “You are a smart boy, Will.”

Now it was the younger man's turn to grimace: “Sometimes you are just easy to predict, Gwaine...”, he murmured.

* * *

 

Some time later, the two knights were sitting at a table in the Rising Sun, both with a mug of mead in it set before them. Gwaine drank half of his before he told Will what bothered the knights of Camelot: “Has Merlin told you about the Dorocha?”

Will shifted uneasily in his chair: “He didn't, but Gaius was more forthcoming. He also told me where they came from, and how you stopped them.”

Gwaine chuckled mirthlessly: “We didn't stop them. Lancelot did.”

“Sir Lancelot was a brave man.”

Gwaine bowed his head: “We all thought so until...” He hesitated again before asking: “Do you know what happened after?”

Will nodded: “I believe so, although I'm not sure I understand what has happened... How can someone come back from the dead?”

Gwaine shrugged: “At the time, we didn't really care how it was possible. We should've been more careful...”

Will, who hadn't touched his beaker of mead, reached over and laid his hand on Gwaine's arm momentarily, apparently to emphasize his words: “You couldn't have known what was going to happen. If someone I lost came back...” Will closed his eyes as if to block out some bad memories, “I wouldn't think twice about how it's possible, I would just be happy to have him back.”

Gwaine nodded and emptied his mug. Will removed his hand from his arm and slid his beaker over for Gwaine to drink up.

“In the end, after Gwen was banished and the King knew what'd happened... Lancelot killed himself.”

Will only nodded, apparently not in the least surprised at this revelation.

Gwaine raised an eyebrow: “Gaius told you that, too? It's not officially a secret, but not many people were told the true circumstances of that night.”

William smiled sadly: “I think Gaius was glad he could tell someone. Talking makes it easier to deal with. Still, I wonder how a man who was so honourable and selfless could do all these things. It's almost like he was someone else... But I still don't see what Lancelot has to do with your foul mood.”

Gwaine emptied the second beaker of mead before he continued speaking.

“We're nearing Lancelot's date of death, that is why we're...”

“That's why you're different. You are grieving.”

Gwaine raised his empty mug to give the barmaid a sign to refill and said: “If that's what you want to call it... Lancelot and I didn't have a lot in common. We didn't talk much.”

Will's lips barely moved as he murmured, more to himself than to Gwaine: “I'm sure you were more alike than you know.”

Meanwhile, Gwaine put his legs up onto one of the free chairs at their table and leaned back. He continued, staring into his beaker: “It's bad for the others. Percival especially, I think. It was Lancelot, after all, who brought him to Camelot. He wouldn't be here without him.”

Will raised an eyebrow: “Then why are you drinking here with me? You should speak to Percival.”

“What?”

William smiled: “If that's what was bothering you, Gwaine, that Percival is grieving for a friend none of you talk about anymore, then maybe it's not me you should be talking to, but Percival. You both knew Lancelot, after all – you should talk about him. I know man – I know we – don't like talking about feelings, but you can't keep them bottled up forever. You've all lost a friend when Lancelot died.”

“You really think we still considered Lancelot our friend after he betrayed our King's trust and got Gwen banished from Camelot? You think he was still our friend after he killed himself?”

Will looked at Gwaine intently, choosing his words carefully: “Lancelot died when he sacrificed himself to heal the veil, Gwaine. What happened after – I don't think that was Lancelot. Not really. It doesn't suit him.”

“How can you say 'It doesn't suit him' when you didn't even know him?”

“No”, Will said quietly, “no, I did not know him. But I know you, and I'm sure you would've known if he was bad. None of you ever had any reason to distrust him.”

Gwaine shook his head: “And look where that led us.”

“And still you're grieving. Don't you think that means something?”

Gwaine shrugged.

Will snatched the half empty beaker from his fingers and narrowed his eyes in anger: “Gwaine, I want you to go find Percival and talk to him about all this. I can't help you figure this out – I can't tell you about...” Will forcefully pulled a loose strand of hair that wouldn't stay put behind his ear and groaned: “Please, Gwaine. Go and talk to Percival – I mean it.”

Now it was Gwaine's turn to narrow his eyes as his more than slightly drunken brain tried to keep a hold of Will's words. Something about them bothered Gwaine.

Then again, many times before Will's suggestions had sounded strange, but turned out to be good in the end.

“All right”, Gwaine said, and left the tavern.

* * *

 

Will remained seated at the table, staring thoughtfully into the mug of mead Gwaine left behind. If there'd been anyone watching him, he might have seen that the man's eyes were filled with tears for a moment – then Sir William of Camelot blinked, and the tears vanished as he drew a shuddering breath. Then he emptied the mug and called for another one he failed to touch because he was too deep in thought, miles upon miles upon miles away and in some other time.

* * *

 

The next morning, Gwaine woke up lying in the stables with a splitting headache. Celtus stood over him and slept. Gwaine wondered whether he'd just had luck that the stallion hadn't run him over in the night, or if maybe he had finally accepted that Gwaine was his owner.

“Morning”, he heard Percival rasp from the neighbouring stall, sounding as bad as Gwaine felt.

“Morning”, Gwaine groaned. Flashes of the night before came back to him, not all of them clear, but he remembered talking to Will, and seeking out Percival. He also remembered more mead, and a long talk about Lancelot that began with anger but ended with a feeling of dull sadness Gwaine could deal with much better than with the anger.

Percival had been the knight who knew Lancelot best, maybe even better than Merlin, with whom Lancelot had been particularly close did, and talking to him made Gwaine remembered what he had appreciated Lancelot for.

The two knights looked at each other, both with bloodshot, heavily bagged eyes, dishevelled clothes and stray straws of hay in their hair – looking bad, but both feeling a lot better now. They both felt relieved.

Gwaine fought to voice his thoughts and then thought better of it because he felt nauseous, and they were knights of Camelot, after all, not soppy barmaids.

It became an unspoken agreement between the two knights that, with the exception of William maybe, no one knew anything of: That every year on Lancelot's date of death, they would meet, drink and talk about their friend. They didn't leave out the bad things, they didn't pretend they never happened – they just both decided that they weren't important any more. What was important, however, was that they had lost a brave, honourable, trustworthy man. A man who had been their friend and brother in arms – and that was all that mattered to them.

.

The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing this got out of hand, I can tell you that much, but it also reminded me how much I loved this show, and how much I loved rewriting the ending. God, I miss my fanfiction... There's a good chance I won't forget again - and that means, for all of you who've read 'To save the Once and Future King' - yeah, there might be a sequel after all!


	4. Day 04: Lost - Stuck

It's not dark, as he had expected – the stars are out, the moon hanging bright and round. Closing his eyes and listening to the sound of waves, he can almost believe that he is on a vacation, and not a survivor of a plane crash stuck on a desolate island. 

Even with the light he feels cold, and although bone-tired, he can't sleep. He wonders if that will ever change – if he will ever fell safe again, or warm, or not hungry. If he's ever going to make it home.

There are still so many things he needs to do. 

.

The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This could literally be anyone, but I imagine that this is one of the guys without a name who died early on and therefore never made it back home - life sucks, guys, especially in TV shows! ;)


End file.
